


Find Me Somebody To Love

by Anxietree123



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Fluff and Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 19:51:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19180249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anxietree123/pseuds/Anxietree123
Summary: For 6000 years, Crowley has kept his feelings under the rug but after Armageddon, eternity seems an awfully long time to keep this up. He may not want to rip off that bandage but Aziraphale sure does. Even so, he may need some helpAka: Sad snake boy is dramatic and Aziraphale wants to help





	Find Me Somebody To Love

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote two drafts of this, both at 3 am on separate days  
> Forgive any typos or errors I didnt catch

"Frankly, I can't really believe it,"

 

"Believe what?"

 

"This!" Crowley shouted, his body tensed like a coiled snake ready to strike, gesturing wildly around the bookshop. Aziraphale raised his eyebrows as he glanced around. "I've fallen into a _routine_ ," the demon huffed incredulously as he drooped, head finding its place, resting on his fist. His sunglasses lie on the table nearby, but this was his time. Besides, Aziraphale had closed the shop. Assuming the Witchfinder Sargent didn't come knocking he'd be fine.

 

Aziraphale simply chuckled at his dramatics. "I suppose it would seem ridiculous for you, a creature of chaos, to develop a routine wouldn't it?" Aziraphale paused to sip his wine, "What exactly would that routine be?"

 

"I uhm, wake up and water my plants." Come on you're a demon, lie. "I," he waved his hand in the air for a few silent seconds as he searched his mind for any other activity, "Feed the ducks?-"

 

"Crowley,"

 

_"Whaaat?"_

 

"You know, for a demon, you're a pretty awful liar,"

 

"I'm not lying!" Crowley shifted to lean away from his friend which took a bit more effort than he would've liked. Who knew that Scotch was so potent? Had he been slurring at all? "Hey, you know what's ri-r-ridi- whats ri-di-cu-lous for you?" Damnit. "Fully abandoning heaven but here you are! Though technically they did try to kill you,"

 

"That was more you,"

 

Crowley tried to scowl but it came off as more of an angry pout. "You know what I meant," he huffed.

 

"You know, I think it best you don't drive. Not if you don't sober up, that is."

 

"Who says I have to obey traffic safety laws?"

 

"The entire country of Great Britain?"

 

"Psch,"

 

"The world at large?"

 

"Eh,"

 

"Me?"

 

Snake eyes glowered at the pastel clad angel, "Alright fine," the resulting smile sent Crowley's heart aflutter. Damn it all to the deepest pits of hell. He downed the rest of his drink and pushed himself to his feet, where he promptly fell back into his chair. It tipped dangerously back and his feet left the floor. Thankfully, Aziraphale caught him and returned him to the ground.

 

"This is what I _mean!_ What if you get yourself hurt?"

 

"I almost fell off a _chair_ not the _Empire State Building!"_

 

"Crowley!"

 

"You've been saying that a lot recently,"

 

"And you've been avoiding me a lot recently! What's going on with you?"

 

"What's going on with me is that you put up with that for so long! They wanted you dead so badly and they didn't even _care!"_

 

Aziraphale looked taken aback, "What?"

 

"When they tried to burn you, they just wanted you to die already! How could you stand it?"

 

"Well, Hell wanted you dead too."

 

"Yeah but that's just how they are! We're the _bad guys_ of course we want to kill each other!"

 

He heard Aziraphale let out a slow sigh from behind him and it was quiet. The clocks scattered untidily about ticked and the wood shelves creaked under the weight of the hundreds of books the angel hoarded. As Crowley was about to stand after slowly sobering enough to at least walk, Aziraphale's warm embrace caught him. Both physically and off guard. "I know how you can get. I'll let it go. For now. But I'll get to the bottom of it!"

 

_Oh if you knew what my problem really was, I rather think I'd have bigger ones._ Crowley patted his friend's arms and slipped his glasses back on his nose as he turned to the angel. "Good luck with that," the demon remarked, shoving the now refilled scotch bottle into his friend's hands and sauntering to the door.

 

Unlike most demons, Crowley had an imagination. And as he took his place in the driver's side of his 1926 Bentley, it was running wild. He dropped his head against the steering wheel and groaned in annoyance. He could imagine holding hands or stealing kisses in the park and all manner of mushy garbage. He could imagine more meaning behind all their lunch trips. He was no cook but for Aziraphale he might learn. He could imagine falling asleep on him. He could imagine calling Aziraphale _his_ angel.

 

"Right. That's enough of that," he stubbornly huffed to himself.

 

Weaving around other vehicles on the road, his mind raced as fast as his Bentley. He couldn't stand it. He chanced taking his eyes off the road to put a CD in the stereo. Not that he could see at night with his glasses on, anyway. His foot pressed on the gas pedal steadily more as he narrowly avoided other drivers.

 

With a mechanical whir and click, barely audible over his engine, the CD finally found its place and Crowley wasted no time to press play.

 

Through the speakers flowed Freddy Mercury's voice.

 

_"Find me. Somebody tooooo~ love!"_

 

Crowley pressed pause on the stereo.

 

-

 

Finally home, he draped himself over his throne. Never once had he regretted keeping this thing. "What's wrong with me?" He pondered out loud, "Other than me being a demon," Crowley splayed himself over the arms of his throne and briefly imagined they were the arms of the angel.

 

Naturally, he promptly threw himself from the throne and almost broke his pristine desk in half. His phone clattered on the floor, which he glared at from his own place on the ground before returning it. Behind him, the usual rustle of leaves stopped. A bubbling rage he hadn't noticed before suddenly boiled over. "AND WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU ALL LOOKING AT?" he roared, spinning on his heels as the shuddering of leaves started up again. He burst into the room containing all of his house plants, yellow eyes flashing in the dim light. "THINK YOU'VE GOT NOTHING TO FEAR? THINK OLD CROWLEY'S FINALLY PIPED DOWN?" He spit a low, snake-like hiss before it morphed into a frustrated scream. "I'LL SHOW YOU SOMETHING TO FEAR!"

 

Those who may have heard Crowley's scream of rage would have been shaken to their very core by the existential horror and dread that accompanied being exposed to the wrath of a demon, especially the wrath of Crowley.

 

He tore at leaves and shattered pots on the ground, knocking his larger plants over and evicting his smaller ones. He stomped on the pottery and shredded the broken bits even further until he stood in a dirty mess of ceramic shards and leaf matter. His own heavy breathing was the only sound in the room until his bared teeth slowly became hidden behind his lips once more. Crowley sighed and looked around at the mess he had made of his plants.

 

Now he had to clean it up.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it was short  
> Idk when the next update is but itll probably be soon


End file.
